. The novels of Samuel Richardson. Complete and unabridged . ed at the foot of Hampstead hill, whichalarmed my fair one when told of it! Oh! heres lady Bettys servant with a billet. To Robert Lovelace, Esq. Monday Night. Excuse us, dear nephew, I beseech you, to my dearest kins-woman. One night cannot break squares: for here MissMontague has been taken violently ill with three faintingfits, one after another. The hurry of her joy, I believe,to find your dear lady so much surpass all expectations[never did family love, you know, reign so strong as amongus], and the too eager desire she had to a
. The novels of Samuel Richardson. Complete and unabridged . ed at the foot of Hampstead hill, whichalarmed my fair one when told of it! Oh! heres lady Bettys servant with a billet. To Robert Lovelace, Esq. Monday Night. Excuse us, dear nephew, I beseech you, to my dearest kins-woman. One night cannot break squares: for here MissMontague has been taken violently ill with three faintingfits, one after another. The hurry of her joy, I believe,to find your dear lady so much surpass all expectations[never did family love, you know, reign so strong as amongus], and the too eager desire she had to attend her, haveoccasioned it! For she has but weak spirits, poor girl!well as she looks. If she be better, we will certainly go with you to-morrowmorning, after we have breakfasted with her, at your lodg-ings. But whether she be, or not, I will do myself thepleasure to attend your lady to Hampstead; and will bewith you for that purpose about nine in the morning. Withdue compliments to your most worthily beloved, I am Yours affectionately, Elizab. CLARISSA HARLOWE. 281 Faith and troth. Jack, I know not what to do with my-self; for here, just now having sent in the above note byDorcas, out came my beloved with it in her hand, in a fitof phrensy!âtrue, by my soul! She had indeed complained of her head all the evening. Dorcas ran to me, out of breath, to tell me that her ladywas coming in some strange way; but she followed her soquick, that the frighted wench had not time to say in whatway. It seems, when she read the billetâNow indeed, said she,am I a lost creature! Oh, the poor Clarissa Harlowe! She tore off her head-clothes; inquired where I was; and t\in she came, her shining tresses flowing about her neck;her ruffles torn, and hanging in tatters about her snowyhands, with her arms spread outâher eyes wildly turned, asif starting from their orbitsâdown sunk she at my feet, assoon as she approached me; her charming bosom heavingto her uplifted face; and clasping h
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